


How the Mighty Fall (in Love)

by RobinsonsWereHere



Series: Whump Week 2019 [1]
Category: Psych
Genre: Angst, F/M, Guilt, Inspired by Agents of Shield, Jules is a Good Partner, Kidnapping, Misplaced Guilt, Self-Blame, They need more fics, Whump, background shules, but it's not really based off the ep, carlowe - Freeform, ergo i have written this, i love carlowe very much, marlowe whump, whump week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 01:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19713667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere
Summary: Henry Spencer will swear up and down that the SBPD does not have dirty cops.(Some of his best friends turn out to be dirty cops, and he swallows his hurt and pushes on, keeping his job longer than he'd like in order to right their wrongs.)Karen  Vick will assure anyone who asks that her department is clean- and then chew them out for asking.(Her one fear is that she is not looking closely enough, that there might be even one double agent in her station who could burn the whole thing down.)Carlton Lassiter and Juliet O'Hara believe firmly in loyalty- to each other, to their jobs, to their coworkers.(All they can do is hope their coworkers feel the same about them.)Shawn Spencer has always had a gift for seeing what others cannot. Where his friends and family are blinded by loyalty, he's able to pull back the curtain.(Can he pull it back fast enough?)Marlowe Viccellio never asked to be kidnapped by a few beat cops with a vendetta against her boyfriend. But it looks like that's what's going to happen.





	How the Mighty Fall (in Love)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to whump week! Full disclosure: I have no clue when I'm going to update this. I think the rest will all go up at once, though, so think of this as sort of a prologue.

Shawn sits at his desk, focusing on the information he’s scrolling through from the company they’re investigating for the current case. He carefully reads each detail he finds: he’s only got this information thanks to a hole in the code Gus had been able to get through. And as of two hours ago, it looks like this might be getting dangerous. Shawn clicks onto the next page, holding his breath and hoping his connection stays sound. He sighs in relief when it loads, but what he finds almost makes him wish he’d been locked out.

There are files. Pages and pages of files with information that should not be in the hands of these corrupt corporate goons. There’s sensitive case information, yes, but that’s not what scares Shawn. What scares him is the personnel files. Names, birth dates, addresses of every officer affiliated with the case. And that’s not even the worst part. There are _pictures._ The chief, in her office, definitely taken with a telephoto lens. Lassie, carrying coffees from the cafe by the station, low enough quality that Shawn would guess it was a cell phone pic. And worst of all, Jules. Shawn stares at one of the photos, of Juliet sitting at an outdoor table at a lunch place, probably taken from a rooftop. The longer he stares at it, the more familiar it gets. Then, he notices a form at the edge of the picture, and everything falls into place.

That picture had been taken when he’d gone out to lunch with Juliet, not even four hours ago.

Cursing under his breath, he grabs his phone and begins to dial.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||

Juliet barely has time to actually answer her phone before Shawn is rambling breathlessly at a loud volume. “Shawn,” she tries. He doesn’t pause. “Shawn, calm down. What’s going on?”

_”I found a lot of stuff. Bad stuff, that these guys shouldn’t have. Jules, I think you’re in danger, I think Lassie’s in danger, someone’s watching you-”_

“Shawn, please calm down. I’m fine.”

_”Jules, I’m in the Shadner Inc files. They have your address.”_

Juliet blinks. That’s not what you want to hear when you’re talking about a corporation accused of multiple hired killings. “Shawn, how do you have those files?”

_”I plead the fifteenth.”_

“Do you mean the fifth?”

_”I’ve heard it both ways. Look, I’m accessing these in a mostly legal but unstable way, and I’d really like it if you and Lassie could get down to the Psych office… there’s a lot here that shouldn’t be.”_

“Alright, we’re on our way down,” Juliet says, waving Carlton over. “We’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

_”Hey, keep an eye out for cameras.”_

“What?”

_”You’re being watched. You, Lassie, the chief. Be careful.”_

Juliet can’t suppress the shiver that runs down her spine. “Thanks for the heads up. See you soon.”

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Gus looks from Juliet to Lassiter worriedly. Both wear unreadable, stony expressions, though he can see the worry in Juliet’s eyes. He himself is still shocked by the sheer amount of information these people have, and he’s been staring at it for twice as long as they have. Also, none of the information is about him… which seems odd, when he thinks about it.

“They’ve gotta have a damn good hacker,” Lassiter mutters.

“Uh-uh,” says Shawn. He’s doing the thing he does where he focuses so hard that he loses all other abilities to function, which means Gus, Lassiter, and Juliet aren’t going to get anything out of him for several minutes at least. Lassiter does not grasp this.

“What do you mean, no?”

“Doesn’t fit,” Shawn manages.

“What are you talking ab-”

“Carlton, give him a second,” Juliet tries.

“Why, because the psychic signal is coming in slow today?” Lassiter scoffs. “He shouldn’t call us all the way over here if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Juliet folds her arms and Gus braces for an argument, but Shawn interrupts. “You have a mole,” he mutters. This does not make things better.

Lassiter and Juliet react simultaneously. “What?”

“At the department. A mole. It’s the only logical answer.”

“Spencer, I think you and I have different definitions of ‘logical’.”

“Shawn, are you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions?”

“Lassie, look at how easy it was to get to these files. If they’ve got someone good enough to hack the SBPD, they can build a better firewall. And these photos were taken by someone who knew your routines-”

“A hired PI.”

“A beat cop.” 

“A psychic.”

“Carlton! That’s enough.”

“Guys, I know you’re super loyal and all that. I know you trust your fellow officers, but this is-” Shawn takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. Gus frowns; he’s really upset about this. “I just feel like this is a little too serious to be taking chances.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you,” Lassiter laughs. Gus sees Juliet chew her lip; she looks uncertain.

“I don’t know, Shawn, that’s a serious accusation…” they exchange an unreadable glance. “We’ll look into it.”

“No we won’t!”

“Yes, we will, Carlton. Let’s get going.” She takes Shawn’s hand and squeezes it quickly. “We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

Shawn smiles, but Gus can see it’s empty of emotion. “Same here.”

::::::::::::::::::

Karen surveys the assembled company in front of her. Henry has his head in his hands, O’Hara looks solemn, and Lassiter seems like he’d rather be anywhere else. Guster and Spencer both seem to be radiating apprehension. “Well?”

O’Hara and Lassiter exchange glances. Henry sighs. Guster swallows.

“You have a mole in the department.” Spencer’s statement is so clipped and serious that it takes her a minute to realize what he’s said.

“And I don’t suppose you have any evidence for this?”

“I’ve got evidence for something, and this is the most likely explanation.”

“We checked it out ourselves,” adds Lassiter.

O’Hara finishes his statement. “It adds up.”

“Alright.” Karen hates the thought that any of her officers might be traitors, but denial won’t get them anywhere. “Do we know who?”

“It’s probably a beat cop,” Lassiter offers gruffly. “The most efficient way to narrow it down would be to see who’s on Chapala Street at lunchtime. That’s the only picture we have a time and a place for.”

Karen nods. “Do what you’d normally do; don’t act suspicious. Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, I know the two of you like to go off and do your own thing, but please stay close for the time being. You’re all dismissed.”

They all appear confused, but they file out of her office without argument. “Spencer, this doesn’t mean you can hang around and bother O’Hara all day,” she hears Lassiter inform the psychic. Karen pulls up her roster of beat cops, but notices Henry hasn’t left.

“Do you need something?”

He folds his arms. “You really think there’s a mole?”

She turns to look at him, her gaze steady. “Your son does.”

“My son thinks a lot of things.”

“Are you questioning my judgement, Henry?” She knows he’s not, but she just wants him to shut up.

“Of course not. I just want to know why you’re so calm about this.”

“I have no reason not to be. Getting upset doesn’t help anything.”

“Are you just gonna keep shutting me down, or-”

“Yes. Exactly. When I said you were _all_ dismissed, I meant all of you.”

Henry shakes his head and heads for the door. “If you only listen to one thing I say, listen to this: if there is a mole, it’s not your fault. It’s not a reflection of how well you do your job.”

“As long as you’re standing here talking to me, I’m _not_ doing my job.” She levels a sharp glare at him, and with one last nod, he leaves.

Finally, she’s alone. Letting out a heavy sigh, she scours her computer files for a possible suspect. _That’s the thing about being chief of police,_ she thinks. _It is my fault. Even if it’s not, really. I still take the blame._ She briefly contemplates what kind of media shitstorm this will be and drops her head into her hands with a groan. _Fuck._

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Marlowe is in a good mood as she opens the door to the apartment she and Carlton share. Her boyfriend had texted her earlier saying he was tracking down a potential suspect but he’d try to be home for dinner, so she intends to use her free time to relax, and then later she’ll make a soup. Tossing her bag on the dining table, she goes to sit on the couch with a book and finds two officers already in her living room.

“Um… hello,” she says, stopping behind the couch. “Who are you guys? Did Carlton send you?”

The two men exchange glances. “Yeah, sure,” says the taller one. He has a gravelly voice and a scowl that seems to be his only facial expression. “There’ve been some… issues with the latest case. We’ve been instructed to take you to a safehouse.”

“Okay…” Marlowe moves slowly around the couch. “Let me… get a bag of stuff first.” _Something is wrong here. Carlton would’ve called me. Right?_ She tries to head for her bedroom but the second man steps in front of her. His iron grip around her forearm startles her and she reflexively punches him in the gut. When he doubles over she tears herself free and backs away slowly, her prison memory kicking in. _I just need a clear shot to the hallway, and then I can get the fuck out of here._

The back of her legs hit the couch. She swears and flops down onto it. The guy she punched is standing now, and both men are advancing towards her. _Shit. Shit. Okay, Marlowe, think. What do you do now?_ She remembers, as she’s pressing herself deeper into the couch, that her boyfriend has a ridiculous number of guns. Practically praying that she’s right, she sticks her arm in between the couch cushions. Sure enough, there’s something smooth there for her to grip.

Marlowe brandishes the TV remote at her attackers right as one digs a taser into her arm.

::::::::::::::::::::

Juliet chews on her lip as she looks out the window. They’re driving through a dilapidated part of town, tracking down the two officers they suspect are their moles. Finally, she can’t handle the silence any longer.

“Who knew your annoying habit of keeping track of who leaves early would come in handy,” she jokes.

Her partner glances at her. “It’s not annoying.”

“Carlton, I left early _once_ for a date which, I might add, was interrupted by a dead body, and you didn’t let me forget it for three weeks. It’s annoying.”

“Whatever. This is the place.” He turns into the driveway, and Juliet sets her jaw. She’s always been one to stand up for her friends, and she’s unwaveringly loyal to those who earn her trust. To not be show the same courtesy makes her body cold with disgust and rage. She follows her partner up the walk without a word.

He kicks open the door, but she’s the first to raise her weapon. She does not lower it, even when they step into a seemingly empty house.

Carlton takes the hallway. She steps into the kitchen.

Stepping into the kitchen, she notices three things.

A freshly painted section of wall, like it had been torn down and then repaired.

A wire, running from the wall, behind the stove, across the floor, and into another wall.

The timer on the stove. Thirteen seconds and counting.

Juliet lowers her gun then. Fleeing becomes a priority.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a oneshot!!!!! but I didn't finish it in time. So, be on the lookout of an update at some point...


End file.
